Touch of the palantir
by Beautiful-Chaos-Girl
Summary: Aragorn and Pippin have been exposed to the touch of the personification of evil. Their wounds run deeper than any can see. how will they recover?
1. Chapter 1

Aragorn stumbled out of the room. Blood seeped from his nose, his heart pounded and his stomach was seized with nausea. His head spun like draining water. He pitched forward, gagged. With one final strain, he vomited with a hacking choke. The bile burned as it surged through his throat, coating the stone floor with a wet splatter. He coughed, choking. His chest hurt. His throat was on fire. He was swallowing his own blood. His body shook as he gagged, retched, coughed and spluttered, struggling to clear his air ways.

"Aragorn!" 

Someone far away was calling his name, their voice high with distress. He struggled to stand, to go to their aid, but he couldn't. He pushed against the ground with a grating cry. The effort was too much and darkness over took him.

Legolas was not in time to catch Aragorn. Just before he reached him, the Dunadain's body went slack and he fell forward, slumping into the puddle of bloodied sick.  
"Aragorn, please! Wake up! Aragorn!" Legolas took hold of his shoulders, trying in vain to rouse him. Merry came to him and laid a hand on the elf's arm.  
"Gandalf is taking Pippin to the infirmary. Would you like us to do the same with Aragorn?"

Legolas looked forlornly at the unconscious warrior in his arms. "Yes. Please call the Rohirrim guard to assist me, Merry" the young hobbit hurried of to comply. "Do not fear Mellon nin. I will get you help. All will be well again"

When Aragorn woke, he was no longer slumped against a cold wet stone floor. He had been laid on a straw paillasse, as they did with the sick or infirm.  
"Wha…?" he roused himself, slowly for his head was throbbing and sat up. He had been covered with a blue woollen blanket, which was just as well, for someone had stripped him of his stained clothing and he was now arraigned only in his linens. As he sat up, the blanket fell away to reveal his bare torso. It was slick with a cold sweat and riddled white with goose-bumps. Waves of feverish heat rushed over him, leaving him feeling hollow and vaguely nauseous. He racked his brain to make some sense of his situation, but every time he tried to remember something he saw flashes of flames and splatter of blood. Screams echoed in his head and he felt his heart clench in inexplicable fear. Suddenly he was exhausted. Against his will sleep surged back into him and pulled him back down onto the paillasse.

Again Legolas was not in time for his friend. He had missed Aragorn's brief awakening. He resolved now that nothing would move him from the man's bedside. He sat down on the cold flagstone floor, forsaking dignity for his friend's sake. He was dismayed to see Aragorn had lost a lot of colour. His face was pale and sunken, his skin hot and slick with sweat. Legolas felt so useless, a feeling he was not accustomed to. He was frustrated that there seemed to be nothing he could do for his friend.

This sleep was not a peaceful oblivion. This sleep was black, foggy and broken. Red flashes burst through Aragorn's dreams. Disjointed whispers and the pounding of feet rang in his ears. A hand was at his throat, another on his chest. Pressing, squeezing. There was no air. Aragorn gasped.

Legolas tensed at the sharp inhalation. Aragorn thrashed about, his mouth wide. He panted and choked. He seemed not to be able to breath. Legolas leapt into action. He tore the blanket off him. Nothing was restricting his airways, yet still Aragorn struggled. He seemed to be getting more and more panicked.

"Aragorn!"

Now there were many hands, hot and sharply taloned, creeping up his body, digging in. If there was any air he would have screamed. He wanted to cry. He was on fire.

Aragorn was seizing, shaking and shuddering. Legolas was terrified.  
"Gandalf! Gandalf!" he shrieked hysterically. The wizard left Pippin's side and came running.  
"Do something, Gandalf! Please!"  
"There is nothing we can do Legolas." Gandalf told him, turning Aragorn on his side. "He simply has to ride it out"

Someone was moving him. _Leave me! Please, leave me alone!_

A coughing fit took hold of Aragorn's shaking body. Viscous fluid ran from his mouth, staining the floor with watery sick. As suddenly as it had begun, the shaking stopped. Aragorn's muscles stiffened, his eyes wide open. His body was ramrod straight. His eyes seemed to be consumed by his pupils, black holes in a ghostly face.

Molten metal flowed through him. Someone was screaming in his head. He couldn't move, couldn't think. Maybe he was dying. Something was moving him now, like a puppet on a string.

Jerkily, Aragorn sat up  
"Aragorn?" the wizard said cautiously. There was an element of dread in his voice. Aragorn's head lolled, as if he'd broken his neck. He stared at the wizard, malice twinkling blackly in his eyes.  
"Aragorn?" Legolas asked. He furrowed his brow in nervousness, beholding his friend. And yet, this was not his friend. This was… something else.  
A smile snaked its way across Aragorn's face. A mirthless smile, an unnerving smile. This smile grew to a grin before falling open into a laugh. A piercing, tearing, shrieking cackle that shook through Aragorn.  
"You interrupted me." Something deep inside Aragorn hissed "Master was not finished speaking"  
"Who are you?" Gandalf demanded, getting to his feet.  
The thing laughed again, chilling everyone's blood. "We has many names. Some call us the darkness, lunacy, vice. Master calls us servant, warrior."  
"Aragorn!" Legolas exclaimed. He was clearly floundering, completely clueless of what was happening.

"No! Not Aragorn anymore. His spirit is passed from this body. This is mine now, mine to do as I wish"

It was now, at the worst moment, where Pippin roused. He yawned deeply and everyone's attention diverted to him.

"The Halfling!" the spirit inside Aragorn howled, pointing at Pippin. "The Halfling has Master's trinket! Don't you, little one!" he said, slavering obscenely. He lurched forward on all fours, scrabbling towards the hobbit.

"What?!" Pippin squeaked, quivering with fear and confusion.

"Master's precious! The Halfling has it!" The spirit spat and drooled.

"No!" Pippin shrieked "I swear to you I do not!"

Aragorn's head was thrown back and the spirit screamed a foul black curse "do not lie to me! I have seen!" he lunged at Pippin and started to tear at his clothes. "I will bend you! I will break you! I will claim you!"

The spirit went on to describe rape in horrific detail.

Legolas rushed at Aragorn, trying to pull him away. "I beg you brother, do not do this shameful thing! You are not yourself! Sauron has addled you!"

With a vicious slap to the face Legolas was thrown back. But now the spirit seemed to be in pain. "Do not touch me elven filth! Your light! It burns!"

While the spirit railed against Legolas, Pippin tore loose. Driven mad by fear he fled the room, sobbing.

Gandalf had drawn his sword and pointed it now at Aragorn

"Get behind me Legolas" he commanded the elf. 

"Gandalf no! You'll hurt Aragorn!" 

Get behind me!" Gandalf ordered, the holy fire in his eyes. Legolas obeyed. 

"The princeling is right!" the demonic spirit hissed, making Aragorn lurch like a puppet. "Your physical weapons will hurt not me, but this mortal flesh will bleed and die." 

His threats cut at Legolas. But Gandalf was more focused on the fact that the creature seemed to shy away from him. It could look neither into his eyes, nor at his sword. And he knew why. 

"I am more than mortal flesh. I am a servant of the secret fire, carrier of the flame of the Ainur. You fear me spirit!" 

"No! You are nothing to me!" 

"Legolas! I need you now!" 

"Me?!" 

"Your light! You are of pure elven kind, first child to the Valar! Pray, Legolas, pray!"

Seeing at once Gandalf's plan, Legolas dropped to his knees and, in his native tongue, poured forth petitions to Elbereth and all her kin.

"Elbereth! Star Kindler, mother of all, please let your power flow through me. Cleanse me and make me like pure fire, Varda, queen of light"

At the mention of the holy Valar's name the demon shrieked.  
"Stop it! Be silent or I'll kill him!" it screamed.

Aragorn stumbled to the table, his hands compelled to take up his dagger. 

"You'll do no such thing! Gandalf declared, raising his sword. It burned now with a pure white light, fuelled by Elbereth and Legolas's prayers. "This sword will pierce not Aragorn but will run you through! You know this to be true! Leave him at once! Return to the pit from whence you came!" 

"My master will defeat you!" it screamed. The dagger shook in Aragorn's hands. 

"Your master is already now defeated. The holy light will not avail you! In the name of Illuvatar, I command you come out!"

Black chains burst in Aragorn's spirit and life rushed back into him.

Sauron himself cried out and drew his hand away from his crystal orb. He'd been burnt.

The name of Elbereth had been torture but the spirit could not abide the name of the holiest of holies. Against his will he was forced out. With an obscene cry, black vapours poured from Aragorn's eyes, mouth and hands. He swooned. This time Legolas was in time to catch him, before he tumbled into the fire. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Aragorn!" Legolas cried, tears streaming down his face.

"Water…" Aragorn said in a cracked whisper. "…burning… everything….burning…"

"Someone, get water! Please, hurry!"

One of the stunned Rohan guards came to their senses and rushed off to fetch some. Legolas continued to cradle the Dunedain warrior. He was completely limp. He couldn't seem to keep his eyes open. His breathing was uneven. Legolas looked to the wizard. The light had waned and he had sheathed his sword. Seeing Legolas's desperate glance he came to his side.  
"Will he live?"

Gandalf hurried assessed him. "Yes Legolas. I believe he will"

"What… what was that, Gandalf? That was not Aragorn!"

"No, it was not. It was a spirit of Sauron, demon filth. It must have passed into Aragorn when he interrupted the connection between the dark lord and Pippin, when he seized the palantir from his grasp."

"And it has left him now? Is he free?"

"Yes my friend. Aragorn is free. We have won a great victory here today, perhaps the greatest we will ever accomplish. With your help I stared pure evil in the face and triumphed."

"Thank you Gandalf. I do not know what I would have done had you not been here."

"Thank not me Legolas, but Illuvatar and all his servants, the Valar. I am merely an instrument. It was their power that won this battle for us Legolas not mine"

Casting his eyes heavenwards, Legolas breathed a silent prayer of thanks. The rohan guard returned with the water. Gandalf took it from him. Taking a blue vial from his pocket, he poured a clear liquid into the water and handed it to Legolas.

"Water from a pure stream in Lothlórien, blessed by Galadriel. It will aid his spirit in recovering"

Legolas raised the cup to the man's lips. "Here Aragorn. Drink deep."

Aragorn complied, slowing drawing at the water in the cup. Gandalf stood. "I will leave him to your care Legolas. There is another one who needs my healing."

Pippin. "Of course, Mithrandir. May Illuvatar go with you."

Legolas continued to help Aragorn drink.

One of the serving maidens approached him. "Can I assist you my lord?" 

"Yes please. Bring me light cloths, a bowl of cool water and some athelas if you can find it" Legolas said. He wasn't totally sure what Aragorn needed, he was the healer not him, but it seemed like the sort of thing that would be appropriate.

"Legolas…"

Legolas snapped his attention back to his patient. The cup was empty so he set aside. "What is it Aragorn?"  
"He hurt me….burned me….bit me… help me, Legolas…"

"All is well Mellon nin. The spirit is gone. The Dark one cannot hurt you anymore"

"I let him in…. I hurt Pippin… I was too…weak….to stop him…. I'm so, so…sorry…"

"No Aragorn. Don't think like that. It was an evil spirit that took control of you, not anything you yourself chose to do. None of us could have prevented what happened. We survived by the grace of the Valar only. Please remember that"

"…I will try Legolas…"

"Rest your voice, Mellon nin. I will make you better"

"…crush the athelas…in hot water…inhale…the steam…clear…the airways"

"Shhh. You are getting breathless. Relax. Breathe deep. All is well" Legolas soaked the cloth and dabbed at his forehead. "Shhh…"

Gandalf searched the entire Golden hall but did not find the stricken hobbit. He asked some of the king's men to keep searching, while he himself headed outside. He looked for a while until he came across some very faint hobbit footprints. They seemed to be leading out the gate. Pippin was so addled he was running right out into open land. Gandalf needed to catch up with him. He hurried to the stable, mounted Shadowfax and headed out in pursuit.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Pippin was exhausted. Every limb hurt. His breathing was ragged. And still he ran. He ran because he could feel hot hands crawling up his body. He ran because he could hear that horrific voice in his head, threatening to hurt and break him. He ran because he could see the slavering mouth of a man he used to trust bearing down on him. He ran because he had never, in his life, been so petrified.

Such was the speed of Shadowfax that Gandalf found Pippin easily. But even when he saw him coming, Pippin did not stop. He did not even slow up.

"Pippin! Peregrin, stop!"

The hobbit seemed not to hear him.

"Pippin!" Gandalf spurred Shadowfax on, bringing him round to bar the hobbit's way. Pippin turned blindly and moved to run. Gandalf hurriedly dismounted. Before the hobbit could get away Gandalf caught him and scooped him up. Pippin thrashed in his arms.

"Please! PLEASE!" he shrieked, pushing widely against the arms that held him

.

Gandalf knew nothing he could say would get through to Pippin in his current state of hysteria. So he simply held him. And waited. The sensation of being encased in familiar arms gradually chased the fear away. Pippin's exhaustion took over. He slumped into Gandalf's embrace. Gandalf sank to the ground, holding the little hobbit close. His heart went out to him. He knew how he must have suffered. He took the blessed vial from his pocket again and held it to Pippin's lips. When the hobbit didn't move Gandalf gently prised his mouth open and tipped it slowly. Thankfully he swallowed instead of choking. When he was done Gandalf replaced the vial in his pocket.

"It will quiet your spirit, chase away the fear" Gandalf assured him.

Though he said nothing, Pippin believed in his heart that the fear of what he had just seen would never leave him. The face of the man he had so admired and trusted, used against him like that. He stopped himself before his mind replayed the whole horrific episode over. Gandalf lifted him onto Shadowfax and mounted up behind him. As he turned to go back to the hall, involuntary tears fell from Pippin's eyes. Gandalf saw but said nothing, just held him a little tighter. Of all the people for this to happen to, it happened to Pippin. The youngest among them. The most naïve, the most innocent. The most trusting. The most vulnerable.

Gandalf rode right through Rohan and into the stables. One of the stable hands took care of Shadowfax whilst Gandalf. The irony of the situation had not escaped Gandalf. This was the hobbit who had only got where he was now because of his negotiating with Lord Elrond. This was the hobbit, he called foolish and threatened to knock against stone. This was the hobbit he know cradled against him, like a fragile new-born. This was one of the dear little hobbits he loved so much, that he worried and wondered over. This was a hobbit he would die for. He saw too it that Pippin was put to bed, in a separate place to Aragorn. The hobbit was not yet rational enough to listen to the real story.

That night both Aragorn and Pippin were plagued with night terrors and broken sleep. Legolas and Gandalf were up all the night with them. Pippin tried to run in his sleep and Aragorn seized and twitched near to the point of injuring himself. Only the quickness of the guards and heavy doses of poppy draught kept them in their beds. Legolas could not achieve elven sleep his mind was over wrought with anxiety.


End file.
